


All Along the Watchtower

by godofhammers (kishafisha)



Series: What If This Storm Ends? [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Minor Loki/Thor (Marvel), Multi, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishafisha/pseuds/godofhammers
Summary: "There must be some kind of way out of here," said the Joker to the Thief.On Earth, the Avengers (and their guests) prepare for war.Sequel to Rebuild All Your Ruins





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I DID IT.
> 
> SORT OF.
> 
> So this IS a sequel to Rebuild All Your Ruins, but not exactly. Initially, I had all of this in the actual direct sequel that picks up with Thor and Loki where we left off, but there was so much going on back on Earth that I decided to break it out for clarity's sake. I'm trying to finish everything before the release of Infinity War so that I won't be tempted to change what I have planned based on what happens in the movie, but we'll see whether or not I can manage it.
> 
> This will have only two parts and will be followed by World Stops Turning. Just as before, there are individual chapter warnings in the end notes, but I promise we’re in the calm before the storm.
> 
> Title and summary quote is from "All Along the Watchtower" by Jimi Hendricks Experience. Huge thanks to [ravenfyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenfyre) for being my beta and helping me brainstorm the outline to be sure I wasn't forgetting anyone in the whole dang universe. And thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented on RAYR! I couldn't have done this without your support.

A long time ago, Asgard had cut a fiery path through the stars to forge an empire of blood and thrice-forged steel over the Nine Realms. A necessary evil for the betterment of all…for the greater good, or so the All-Father would have them believe. These were savage realms after all, worlds in need of a guiding hand. Or a fist. It was not to say that they were simpler times, for such workings came with their own complications, but it was easy to know ones place when the call of battle was ever-present.

Now the last Asgardians stood upon a grassy cliff in a distant realm, waterlogged and weary as they watched the place where last they’d seen their King. The last Valkyrie stood among them, her arms folded and brow furrowed as she waited and wondered how it was she had come to this point. A few months ago she had been comfortably carving her living out of the wastes of Sakaar, spending her credit on her ship and her vices. A few lifetimes ago she had ridden into battle with the glory of the Valkyrior, conquering armies in the name of the All-Father. And now…

“Alright,” she declared finally, turning resolutely away from where Thor had vanished through the portal. “Who do I have to fight to get a drink on this planet?”

A number of wide-eyed faces blinked back at her in return, many of the refugees still in shock over all that had happened. The Valkyrior and the Einherjar had faded with the dawn and their passing had shaken many of the survivors even more than their initial appearance. The wizard that Thor had accosted into building his portal had dropped like a stone the moment he released the portal, saved from the mud by his oddly prescient cape, which even now kept him cradled safely above the milling crowd.

Hearing her speak, Hulk came wandering across the field toward her, Asgardians quickly making way so as to not be caught underfoot. “Thor gone?” he asked her sullenly.

Smiling up at him, the Valkyrie reached up to rub his arm consolingly. “He’ll be back. Thank you for moving the Asgardians for me.”

Hulk grunted in acknowledgement, then squinted up at the sky unhappily. “This Earth… Earth hate Hulk.”

“Likely Earth is just jealous of you,” she assured him. Feeling eyes on her, she looked to see the oddly hued man who’d helped the wizard staring at them both. “Well? Aren’t you going to offer us a drink?”

He looked a bit worse for wear himself, but blinked and inclined his head questioningly. “I beg your pardon?” he asked politely.

“This is your planet, isn’t it? The least you could do is offer us a drink,” she told him critically, then looked up at Hulk. “Earth is terribly inhospitable, isn’t it?”

The strange man looked taken aback by this, though Hulk grunted again in agreement with her. “I…that is…” As though remembering himself, he drew himself up and nodded courteously. “Welcome to…Earth. I am called Vision. Mister Stark is currently en route with shelter and supplies, I have kept him abreast of the situation since the portals opened. I have been preparing for some time at Loki’s behest, but I will admit that I was not expecting quite this many survivors.”

“ _Loki,_ ” she growled under her breath and her fists tightened with the need to exact brutal and immediate punishment upon his person for keeping her in the dark. “And this ‘Mister Stark’ is someone important, I presume?”

“Anthony Stark is a man found wanting in nearly every regard,” Heimdall said grimly as he joined them. “I have no doubt that he will appeal to your nature.”

Glad to have a familiar face at her back, the Valkyrie grinned fiercely up at him. “Sweet-talker, you. Glad to see you survi-“ Her words cut off abruptly as she stared into the startling crimson of his eyes. “What _happened?_ ”

“Where is Thor?” Heimdall asked in answer, looking around for him.

“He…left. He’s gone back for Loki.” Her breath caught at the abrupt _fury_ that broke across Heimdall’s normally placid expression and suddenly remembered Loki as he stood in the hangar bay, how his eyes had seemed to glow a golden amber. “Heimdall…”

“I must see to the people,” he said firmly, his face smoothing out again, though anger still lingered in his blood-red eyes. “Now that the King is gone, we must utilize the remaining council to ensure they do not falter.”

Sighing, the Valkyrie felt exhaustion weigh in on her at the thought, wanting nothing more than to curl up with a bottle and pretend that she’d been unaffected to fight alongside her sisters again for a sparse span of minutes. Then she nodded resolutely and rolled her neck and shoulders as though to prepare for another fight.

“Yes, fine. Give me a boost, big guy,” she said and grinned when he lifted her easily, letting her see out across the wide, wet field. Clearing her throat, she took in a deep breath and then began barking orders at the lot of them as though it were another one of their drills.

After only a few moments of hesitation, her damage control team leaders caught on and began echoing her calls across the expanse and everyone began to move, spurred on by weeks of routine maneuvers. In short order the massive horde of Asgard had organized itself into semi-neat clusters so that the leaders could account for them and she perched herself comfortably on Hulk’s wide, green shoulder to wait for their reports. Vision floated up beside her to see it for himself, observing curiously.

“You are their General?” he queried, looking at her.

“She is their Valkyrie,” Heimdall corrected him from where he remained firmly on the ground to watch the proceedings, seemingly calm now.

“I simply have a low tolerance for idiocy,” she said lightly, running idle fingers through Hulk’s short curls.

Vision watched this with an odd expression. “Doctor Banner seems…calm.”

The Valkyrie sighed and glared at Vision as Hulk growled out, “ _No Banner_. Hulk is Hulk!”

“And he can obviously _hear you_ when you speak about him like he isn’t there,” she chided him.

Taken aback, Vision processed this, then inclined his head. “My apologies…Hulk. I admit that I did not realize how far your capacity for speech had come.”

“Hulk not stupid,” he grumbled, folding his arms rather petulantly.

“Of course you aren’t,” the Valkyrie assured him and then leapt off his shoulder nimbly when the first runners started heading her way to make their reports. She and Heimdall listened gravely as they began to get the numbers of the wounded, the missing and the confirmed dead, though she kept at least part of her attention on Hulk.

“Perhaps I could arrange for Natasha to-“ she heard Vision begin and quickly turned round as Hulk roared in defiance.

“That’s enough!” she said sharply and Hulk cast an angry glance her way, but reluctantly lowered his arms from where he’d been reaching for Vision. “Come here.” She held out her hands and Hulk sighed and sat down heavily, the ground trembling slightly.

He set his head in her hands and glowered sulkily. “No Banner.”

“I know it isn’t fair, but I really need Bruce right now,” she told him earnestly and his massive hands fisted in his lap.

“Why no Hulk?” he demanded, clearly hurt.

“Because I want to get Thor back and you’re the only one I know that can turn into a genius. It’s your superpower, big guy…there’s no need to be ashamed of it,” she assured him. “Bruce built the machine that Loki used to get us here, so we need him to get back to the fight.”

Hulk’s brow furrowed as he worked through her reasoning for a long moment, then reluctantly nodded. “Hulk gets to fight?”

“I’m certainly not going into battle with _Bruce_ ,” she teased with a grin, patting his cheek.

Grinning fiercely in return, Hulk leaned into the touch, then closed his eyes and began to shrink, body going slack and pale. The Valkyrie held onto him through the change, until she was crouched and could pull Bruce’s head to her shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly as he oriented himself. Pulling her cape free, she wrapped it about him to ward off the chill of the wind rising up over the cliffs.

“Val?” Bruce said dazedly, squinting a little in the bright light of early morning.

“Welcome back,” she smiled at him, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Seducing me on another alien world?” he asked, huffing out in amusement. “Is that our thing?”

“If only,” she sighed helped him to his feet. “I suppose I ought to have said ‘welcome home’ instead.”

“What?” Bruce asked in surprise, then looked around the field, marked with the clear signs of battle and strewn with the bodies of the alien horde. The attack on the _Foundation_ came back to him suddenly with glaring clarity and his breath caught. “The Tesseract… This…this is _Earth_.”

The Valkyrie squeezed his shoulders briefly before releasing him with a teasing smile. “Top of the class.”

“What happened?” he asked, looking round at her, then a flutter of movement drew his eyes upward to where Vision was watching them both with his unblinking, inhuman stare. Disoriented as he was, it seemed to take Bruce a moment to sort out his memories, but then he smiled. “Vision! You’re…still a _good_ robot, right?”

“Doctor Banner,” Vision greeted him, his impartial voice managing just the barest inflection of relief as he descended down to stand in the grass beside them. “It is good to see you. I assure you that I am still not Ultron. Nor do I have any intention of causing an extinction level event. I must remind you that I am not, however, a robot.”

“Are the others here? Where’s T-“ He was cut off as music suddenly blared to life in the sky above them, making the refugees flinch in alarm. Grinning rather helplessly as he recognized Robert Plant’s howling wail, Bruce looked up and was unsurprised to see a Quinjet shimmer into view. “Never mind.”

“Mister Stark has arrived,” Vision explained for the benefit of Heimdall and the Valkyrie, resigned at the display.

“No wonder you got on with the Grandmaster…” the Valkyrie muttered as she watched the ship settle in for a landing a safe distance from the throngs of nervous Asgardians.

A ramp descended from the ship even as the door retracted to reveal a man in a well-tailored suit, the music dying down as he raised his hands to declare, “I come in peace! Which, if we’re being honest, is supposed to be _your_ line. Being that you’re the alien invaders and all.”

“We are _not_ invaders, Anthony Stark,” Heimdall said severely.

“Worse, you’re _squatters_ ,” Tony replied and sounded as though the very concept were repugnant. “You know, Thor is an okay guy and all, but I have to say…dropping off your kingdom on foreign soil and then bailing? _So_ rude.”

“Wait…Thor’s not here?” Bruce asked in confusion, looking at the Valkyrie.

“He went back for Loki,” she told him quietly while eyeing the newcomer.

“What? _Why?_ ” he wondered, perplexed, but the Valkyrie only gave him an exasperated look in answer.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that my very own long lost Doctor Banner?” Tony gasped theatrically, clasping a hand to his chest before striding forward to take Bruce by the shoulders. “Are we huggers? I’m saying we’re huggers.” True to his word, he pulled the scientist in for a tight embrace, which was somewhat awkwardly returned. “I have to admit, _alien abduction_ was pretty low on my list of what happened to you. Did they probe you?”

“We can hear you,” the Valkyrie said in wry amusement, folding her arms across her chest.

“Did _she_ probe you?” Tony asked in a stage whisper.

Bruce sighed and shook his head, his mouth twitching in a weary smile. “It’s good to be back, Tony. Are Cap and the others with you?”

Tony’s charming smile froze and faltered slightly before he stepped back and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah…no. That’s…complicated. I had a Beatles analogy ready to go, Yoko Ono and all that, but…I’m here to get everyone settled in and registered appropriately before the world collectively loses its shit.” He gestured with a practiced affectation and a number of large chromatic crates flew in from above and began unfolding themselves into a honeycomb like structure, gleaming in the sunlight.

“Registered?” Bruce repeated in confusion, even as the Valkyrie laughed outright at the suggestion.

“The people of Asgard do not require your registration, Anthony Stark,” Heimdall told him frankly, stepping forward. “Nor will they allow themselves to be interred here.”

“Uh, yes actually they _do_ , Clear Eyes,” Tony corrected and dismissively pulled out his phone, tapping at it. “And if you’ve got a better _off-world_ suggestion for where you’ll be staying, I’ll be glad to hear it.” He waved a hand at the rapidly forming encampment, which enclosed the small network of field tents that had been there prior to their arrival. “Otherwise, welcome to Casa de Stark.”

The Valkyrie considered the forming structure for a long moment, then shrugged. “Is there liquor?”

“She can stay,” Tony declared and, finished with his text, stored his phone away again.

“Hey guys,” Korg said mildly, holding up a hand as he thumped toward them. “Don’t mean to interrupt the planetary negotiations you’ve got going on, but I think that magic hammock thing is getting tired.” He pointed at where the crimson cape binding up the limp form of Stephen Strange had started to flag, hovering listlessly.

“What is that?” Tony asked, squinting at the cape, then changed his mind and gestured at Korg. “No wait, what is _that_.”

“Oh, hi. I’m Korg and this here is Miek,” Korg introduced himself jovially, nodding at the insectoid that came jogging up in a crude mech suit to stand beside him. “He is an insect with knives for hands and is highly resistant to being stepped on. I’m just your average Kronan, though I suppose I might be considered below-average in the rock mass department, but I like to think I make up for it with my freethinking perspective.”

“Perhaps an infirmary should be the first course of action,” Vision interjected calmly. “Doctor Strange has been unconscious since opening the portal back to the point of origin and a number of Asgardians were injured in the alien attack.”

“Doctor Strange…the neurosurgeon?” Bruce asked in confusion. He had rather hoped that the reappearance of Tony Stark in his life would come with answers, but found instead that his head was starting to hurt from all the questions piling in it. “Wasn’t he in a car accident a few years ago?”

“Right…” Tony pushed his thumb and forefinger up under his designer sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose briefly, then nodded decisively. “Oh yeah. Today’s gonna be a good day.”

Reading through the ship manifest for the third time, Natasha Romanoff didn’t even blink as a weapons crate thumped heavily to the deck beside her, joining its half-dozen fellows. “That the last of it?” she asked Sam Wilson, who rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders.

“How is it we got stuck with all the heavy lifting? Whatever happened to equality between the sexes?” he complained jokingly, grinning at her.

Natasha’s lips bowed upward and she spared him a critical glance. “You suddenly learned to read Cyrillic?”

Another crate thumped down on top of Sam’s and Steve Rogers dusted off his hands lightly, looking no worse the wear for the manual labor. “ _That’s_ the last of it. Anything missing?”

Glancing over the crates piled into the Quinjet one final time, Natasha nodded in satisfaction. “Yes. All of the Chitarui weapons on board were to be offloaded at the port in Lebanon. It all matches up with the manifest,” she confirmed and brushed her red hair out of her eyes.

For the last eighteen months the three of them had been tracking down advanced weaponry based on stolen Chitauri and Ultron technology, after Steve had ‘gotten a lead’. Both Natasha and Sam knew this to mean that he’d gotten the information from Tony, but they didn’t bother to press the issue. That situation was complicated enough without them rubbing his nose in it. This latest, and with any luck _last_ shipment was one they had caught while in transit through the Strait of Gibraltar, ultimately bound for Aleppo. Sam called them the Secret Avengers. Natasha called him an idiot.

“ _Yes!_ ” Sam celebrated the news with a fist pump. “ _Please_ tell me this means we’re taking a vacation in Wakanda.” He turned to look at Steve imploringly, clasping his shoulders to shake the man slightly. “I _need_ a Wakandan vacation, man. Have you _seen_ the Dora Milaje?”

“I’m pretty sure those women could kill you, Sam,” Steve told him wryly.

“Easily,” Natasha confirmed. “And painfully.”

“Worth it,” Sam said confidently.

Laughing, Steve shook his head in amusement and drew out his phone as it chimed, ignoring Natasha’s withering look for having left the sound on. The humor drained from his face as his eyes read over the screen and something tightened in her chest when he glanced at her.

Seeing the change in his demeanor, Sam moaned piteously, “ _Dora Milaje…_ ”

“It’s Tony,” Steve said softly, which sobered him immediately. It was an unspoken rule among them that they simply didn’t talk about Tony, so to hear Steve say his name openly was startling to say the least. “He’s in Norway…with Banner. He needs an extraction.”

“Funny how quick he is to forget the Sokovia Accords when it’s _his_ bro on the line,” Sam muttered mutinously, folding his arms.

“They’ve had a warrant out for him since before the Accords,” Steve pointed out seriously. “Even after Tony’s intervention and relief efforts, they classified what happened in South Africa as an Enhanced Persons Attack.”

“Tony’s trying not to lose his control over the Avengers. He knows that Hulk would sink the Raft if Bruce lost control,” Natasha reasoned stoically, her demeanor firm despite the rush of blood in her ears. It was all too easy to remember the vulnerability that came with the mention of Bruce Banner, the stark reminder of the brief moment in her life where she’d flirted with the idea of being…human. “If Bruce sees the Joint Task Force coming for him, he’ll run.”

“And the JTF won’t know or care that Banner’s doing it to protect _them_ ,” Steve sighed, then frowned as his phone started to ring. Checking the ID, his eyebrows rose in surprise. “It’s Sharon.” Setting it to speakerphone, he picked up the call, his brow furrowed worriedly. “Hello? Sharon?”

“I’m sorry, Steve. I know you’re on mission, but…it’s Wanda,” Sharon Carter sounded a bit frantic as her voice echoed into the confines of the Quinjet, small and tinny. “A few hours ago she just started… _screaming_. I’ve been trying to calm her down, but-“

“Is that Steve?” Wanda demanded, her wild, agitated voice sounding in the background. “Let me speak to him.”

“Alright, Wanda, just- Oh for fuck’s sake…” Sharon’s voice rapidly became distant in a way that suggested Wanda had just snatched the former agent’s phone with her powers.

“Steve,” Wanda said urgently and they all glanced at one another to see a small flicker of red energy come through the phone’s speaker.

“What’s going on, Wanda?” Steve asked, his voice calm and even.

“I saw…something. Or I felt it…maybe both,” she half-sobbed, her breath hitching as she spoke.

“You gotta give me more than that,” he pressed. “What did you see?”

“The _end_ ,” she gasped.

“The end?” Sam repeated, frowning. “The end of what?”

“ _Everything_.”

It took some time for Steve to talk Wanda down enough that she finally relinquished the phone back to Sharon once more, retreating to her room to rest. She had been unable to give them any further clarification as to what she might have seen or felt, so all Steve could do was promise her that they would be careful and watch for any signs of an apocalyptic event. Sam reasoned they were likely due one right about now anyway. Given that Bruce had suddenly emerged out of hiding and Steve was openly admitting to his dealings with Tony Stark, Natasha was inclined to agree.

“What’s the plan, boss?” she asked Steve, propping her hip up against a weapons crate.

He brushed his fingers over his beard once, a habit he’d picked up over the last year, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’ve got to get these weapons back to Wakanda. They aren’t safe out in the open and if something _is_ coming, I want to give T’Challa a heads up.” Steve looked at Natasha seriously. “Are you up for the extraction?”

“I can handle it,” she affirmed, her face impassive. “If I leave now I can be there in a few hours. What about Wanda?”

“Sam?” Steve asked.

Sam shook his head. “I know where I’m useful and that ain’t it. If some big bad is coming, then we’re going to need reinforcements. Think I’ll head back stateside.”

“I thought Scott was trying to go straight,” Natasha commented, arching a brow. “Clint certainly is.”

“That was before our witch started spouting doomsday omens. Hoping I can change his mind.”

“Then it sounds like we have a plan,” Steve said with a nod. “Nat, be ready to divert to London if we hear anything more from Wanda. For now, we’ll trust Sharon to look after her and keep us informed.” Sam nodded and slung his bag onto his shoulder to depart, but Steve held Natasha back before she could follow. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Of course, Norway’s beautiful this time of year,” she said lightly.

“You know what I mean, Nat. You and Banner…you never got closure there.”

Natasha’s lips pursed slightly, then she lowered her eyes. “That was almost three years ago. He made me an offer, I pushed him off a ledge and he vanished off the face of the Earth. I’d call that closure.”

“I just know what it’s like to be haunted by missed opportunities. Don’t discount the possibility of second chances.”

“Speaking of second chances,” Natasha changed the subject with a teasing smile, eyeing him. “You planning on cleaning up before you get to Wakanda?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he blushed suddenly, ducking his head almost shyly, which she found highly amusing considering he was six feet of solid muscle. “I don’t…I mean…” He ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously, far longer than he’d ever worn it. “Does it look bad?”

She gave him a mysterious smile and patted his bearded cheek consolingly. “It has a certain roguish charm. Very manly.”

“I hate it when I can’t tell whether or not you’re making fun of me,” Steve groused with a long-suffering sigh.

“Don’t worry, Cap,” Natasha said as she headed out of the Quinjet. “I’m _always_ making fun of you.”

Porcelain quivered under Wanda Maximoff’s nails, their black lacquer chipped and cracked in contrast to the finely painted buds flowering the sides of her teacup. Sharon had offered to repaint them for her in what was likely meant to have been a gesture of feminine solidarity, but Wanda had simply stared at her until she’d sighed and walked away. She knew that Sharon meant well when the former agent tried to relate on some human level, but Wanda never forgot her purpose. Sharon wasn’t here as her friend or companion…she was here to be Wanda’s _nursemaid_.

While the weeks they’d spent aboard the Raft had been difficult for all the former heroes, for Wanda they’d been nothing short of _torture_ , worse than any of the trials she ever suffered through under HYDRA. At least in the time of von Strucker’s experiments, her rapidly manifesting powers had an outlet beyond the confines of her aching body. Imprisoned within the Raft, she’d been bound and collared, like a _beast_.

Wanda had known from the moment the collar that dampened her power closed about her throat that it hadn’t been coincidence such a device was waiting for her. _Tony_ had made it and had likely done so long before the Sokovia Accords had even been proposed. The betrayal had burned almost as much as the energy trapped inside her, radiating through her mind. When Steve had freed her of it, the backlash had been so violent that only Clint’s quick actions with a sedative had kept her from inadvertently destroying the Raft and drowning them all.

In the roughly two years since Steve’s jailbreak, Wanda’s hold on her power was still frustratingly tenuous. Whatever Tony’s collar had done to her, she lived each day now without knowing what might cause her power to flare up. This morning was a particularly bad one, when she’d woken well before the dawn screaming fit to wake the dead. When Sharon had burst into her room, clad in a sleep shirt and a sidearm, she’d found Wanda floating above her bed, contorted as though in pain as objects flew wildly about the room. Even her S.H.I.E.L.D. training hadn’t managed to save her from a stunning black eye when one of Wanda’s steel-toed boots had shot out of the closet like a bullet.

Wanda dimly knew that she still hadn’t apologized to the woman for what she’d put her through, but she was still too wrapped up in her own head to even consider niceties just now. Dread still lingered in her heart like a shadow, a great golden fist descending from above to crush the life from her body. Shuddering, Wanda closed her eyes, knowing that they glowed red as she tightened her fingers about her teacup. She flinched bodily when she felt the warmth of a hand lay over them.

“Your coffee will go cold, _sestřička_ ,” a voice teased her tenderly.

And that was another problem. _Pietro_.

“Leave me alone,” she hissed, closing her eyes tighter as she pulled her hands away. “You’re not here.”

“Hm…no? Where am I then?” her twin asked her in amusement.

Pain welled in her heart and she keenly felt the place within her that had once been entwined with Pietro, a wound that would never, _could_ never heal. A tear slipped past the tight press of her eyelids as she managed to gasp out, “ _Gone_.”

“Oh jeez…are you crying?” the _other_ one asked from across the room, his voice brash and thoroughly American. A brush of wind across her face told her that he’d sped to her side, even as Wanda shook her head in denial. “Come on now, don’t cry. It’s not fair when girls cry, yanno?”

“ _Leave me!_ ” she cried and heard the teacup shatter at a lash of her power.

Pushing to her feet, Wanda turned and stumbled blindly away from the table, catching herself on the thick curtains that framed her bedroom window. She hadn’t told anyone about Pietro and Peter, about the visions of her brother that occasionally haunted her waking moments. Despite all her sense and reason, Wanda _knew_ that somehow they were _both_ her twin, and yet _neither_ were the man who had sacrificed himself to save Clint Barton in Sokovia. Yet regardless of what her heart told her to be true, she simply could not accept the appearance of the phantoms when they came before her.

Listening closely to be sure they had gone, Wanda opened her eyes and let out a calming breath, only to feel the air abruptly punch out of her lungs. She wasn’t staring out at the manicured grounds of the Carter Manor, but onto a desolate landscape tinged red and strewn with bodies. Bodies she _recognized_. A strong hand gripped her arm and she gasped, flinching back with a burst of red energy. The dark-haired woman who’d grabbed her cursed as the power burned at her, but shook it off, her armor already closing over the wound.

“Keep it together, little witch!” she snapped. “We have to- Get _down!_ ” The woman shoved her back and flung up her arms, a wall of jagged black spikes rising from the red earth to halt the progress of a thick golden spear, though not before it had caught the woman just under her collarbone. She merely grunted at the pain of it, panting slightly as she pulled herself off of the blade. Looking back at Wanda, her eyes burned a bright, golden amber and her lip curled in a snarl. “We need _more time_.”

Wanda’s breath came fast and shallow in her chest, her eyes wide as they looked between the woman and the spear wildly. “I-I don’t…that was… I saw…” Distantly she thought that she might be going into shock, an uncontrollable shudder working through her.

The dark-haired woman searched her face, then swore violently and gripped her by the shoulders. “Wanda! _When_ are you?”

The question was so startling that it cut through the ringing in her ears and Wanda stared back at the woman. “When…?” she murmured questioningly and instinctively reached out for the woman’s mind. Abruptly the world tilted on its axis and she stumbled forward, catching herself against cold metal. She spun around, but the desolate landscape was gone, leaving her encased in a cell like none she had ever seen. It looked… _alien._

“Who are you?” a man asked her, sounding curious, though his voice was hoarse.

Turning, Wanda saw him sitting on the floor of the cell, managing to look amused by the sight of her despite that he looked half-dead. There was something about him that looked familiar and she frowned at him. “I…know you,” she said slowly. “You…were in the archives.”

“Was I?” he wondered, tilting his head to consider her with eyes the same golden shade of amber that the woman’s had been.

“New York,” Wanda said more confidently, taking a step back from him. “You are Thor’s brother. Loki.”

Something flickered in his expression, then he inclined his head. “You must be from Earth. Another new Avenger? You seem to be multiplying at an alarming rate.” Loki shifted his weight and looked as though the motion pained him as he sat more fully upright. “I don’t suppose you’ve come on an ill-advised rescue mission.”

“Rescue mission?” she asked in confusion, looking around the cell again. “Why would I rescue you?”

He laughed harshly at the question, shaking his head and giving her a sharp, wicked grin. “I didn’t mean _me_ ,” he assured her scathingly.

Brow furrowing and unsure whether or not this was really happening, she reached out for his mind and to her surprise Loki visibly flinched and rebuffed her firmly. There was a strange thread of familiarity in the brief contact between their minds and she stared at him openly even as he glared at her.

“You’ll have to do better than _that_ , little witch,” he snarled at her and Wanda was reminded strongly of the dark-haired woman from before.

“I felt you this morning,” she realized suddenly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Like a voice…or a _thousand_ voices…all _screaming_ in my head…”

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he studied her and she felt him tentatively reach for her own mind, feeling at the edges of the sickening horror that had woken her before the dawn. His breath caught as he experienced it through her memories, giving a name to the dread and terror that slipped away from her just as quickly.

The strange feeling of his mind against hers pulled away again and Loki shuddered, looking paler than before. “You said that happened this morning?” he asked her, his voice oddly hollow.

“Yes,” she whispered, beginning to tremble again as she stared at him.

Loki looked at her intently, sitting forward slightly. “ _When are you?_ ”

With a gasp, Wanda flinched back away from him and found herself back in her bedroom, so completely innocuous that it was nearly as unnerving as her visions of alien prison cells or battlefields strewn with the bodies of her friends. Choking back a scream that threatened to consume her, Wanda wrapped her arms about herself as though it could contain the power roiling under her skin.

“Vis,” she whispered into the room. Wanda longed for his sense and reason and _order_ to help calm the chaos that had become her mind, despite how they had each betrayed the other. “Vis, _please…_ I don’t know what’s real anymore…” More alone than she’d felt since the moment Pietro was stolen from her, Wanda sank to her knees and wept.

“This is the Wakandan Air Guard. You are entering Wakandan airspace. Identify yourself.”

Though Steve could neither see the Wakandan ships, nor detect any trace of them on his radar, he had no doubt that the cloaked war birds had him locked in their sights, despite that he was _also_ cloaked. Flipping on his comms, he keyed up the mic. “Wakandan Air Guard, Quinjet A-2015BS. Request to transition your airspace for cargo delivery in the Golden City.”

The radio was silent for a moment before it crackled back to life. “Identity confirmed. Quinjet A-2015BS, you are cleared through to the Golden City on your current heading at 3000. Welcome back, Captain Rogers.”

Steve smiled a little to himself and adjusted his altitude slightly, a curl of anticipation in his belly. Since coming out of the ice just over a decade ago, he had seen a great number of extraordinary things, but flying into the Golden City never ceased to amaze him. His breath caught as he sailed through the barriers of Wakanda’s shields, revealing the almost alien beauty of the heart of Wakanda.

Though Wakanda had opened its borders a few weeks after the implosion of the Avengers, they still kept their capital city concealed from outside view for the protection of its citizens. They had just recently begun allowing immigration, though for now it was largely restricted to refugees and members of the scientific community. There had been backlash at this, of course, largely from the wealthy who saw Wakanda as an untouched playground and corporations who longed for new terrain and technologies to exploit. Despite this, the reception to Wakanda’s revelation had been largely positive, a sign of hope in a world plagued by doubt and unrest; sentiments that had hardly been aided by Earth’s mightiest heroes battling _each other_ two years ago.

T’Challa and his entourage were already waiting for him as he brought the Quinjet to land outside the palace, a courtesy that made Steve feel all too aware of how out of place a kid from Brooklyn was here among the majesty of Earth’s wealthiest nation. Wishing suddenly that he _had_ shaved after all, he glanced at his stealth fatigues to make sure they were at least _passably_ clean and then sighed and opened the cargo door. Descending the ramp, he gave T’Challa a lopsided smile as the monarch came forward to greet him.

“Your Majesty,” he said politely, inclining his head and taking T’Challa’s hand when it was offered.

“Captain Rogers,” T’Challa greeted him with a small smile. “It is good to have you back with us.”

“It’s good to _be_ back,” Steve assured him. “I’ve brought another shipment of the advanced weaponry we’ve recovered. Thank you again for agreeing to store it here.”

When Tony had first tipped Steve off to the black market weapons dealings of Adrian Toomes, he hadn’t even hesitated in trusting T’Challa to store the reclaimed weapons in Wakanda. Tony was far too closely tied to the UN and their Joint Task Force now, and had proven one time too many that he couldn’t be trusted with an excess of power close at hand besides.

“Shuri will be very pleased,” T’Challa said with a wry, affectionate smile. “She never tires of dismantling new toys.”

He gestured that Steve should accompany him into the palace as a pair of the Dora Milaje went past them and into the Quinjet to inspect the cargo. Steve followed, as did T’Challa’s general, ever watchful of her king despite her fond regard of his guest. It was amusing to have someone defer to her with such genuine old fashioned courtesy, which she suspected was owed as much to her gender as her rank. Though Okoye would never speak it aloud, she found Steve Rogers to be boyishly charming.

“I imagine it was not simply your duties that have brought you back here,” T’Challa guessed. “You must be interested in the progress of Sergeant Barnes.”

Though Steve had been fully intending to bring up the subject of Norway and Wanda’s premonition, he instead found himself blurting out, “How is he?”

“The White Wolf trains our War Dogs,” Okoye told him, approval ringing clear in her tone.

“Training?” Steve asked in surprise and stopped to stare between them. “He’s awake?”

T’Challa and Okoye exchanged a look at this, before the king spoke gently. “I apologize, Captain Rogers. I thought that he had contacted you before now. We left it in his hands.”

Something constricted painfully tight in Steve’s chest and he swallowed thickly as he kept his face impassive, not wanting to show how the news had wounded him. Likely Sam and Natasha would have seen right through him. Probably T’Challa and Okoye did, too.

“I’m sure he had his reasons. You said that he’s training. Is that...wise?” Steve wondered, brow furrowing.

“My sister assures me that she has repaired the damage HYDRA inflicted on his mind. He volunteered to repay her efforts by training our warriors,” T’Challa explained. “The War Dogs are well versed in all manner of combat and tactics, but Sergeant Barnes presents a unique skill set they’ve not yet encountered.”

“A HYDRA assassin,” Steve surmised, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t like it, didn’t like the thought of Bucky rehashing all the terrible parts of his life, but he couldn’t begrudge him his choices…not when he’d lived so long under the control of others. Pushing thoughts of Bucky, and the emotions that followed, to the back of his mind, Steve looked at T’Challa seriously. “There was actually another reason that I came.”

T’Challa regarded him, then nodded. “The Asgardians. We have been monitoring the situation since they arrived in Norway. My ambassador is on site in a cloaked war bird and has been sending us updates.” He inclined his head toward Okoye and she raised her hand to key up the beads at her wrist.

“Early this morning, Shuri’s sensors picked up strong gamma energy signatures matching that of the Tesseract from the Chitauri attack in America,” Okoye told Steve, showing him a three dimensional diagram of a series of walled in hexagonal structures that had Tony Stark written all over them. Literally in some places. “We estimate close to ten thousand Asgardians came through the portals, as well as a host of other, unidentified aliens.”

Sighing heavily, Steve internally cursed out Tony with language that would have once had his mouth washed out with soap many times over. “Stark left that out when he contacted me. I suppose you already know that Doctor Banner is there?”

“Our war bird caught sight of him while he was still…green,” Okoye confirmed. “Unfortunately, so did a small fishing boat just off the coast. They uploaded the footage they captured when they docked this afternoon.”

She keyed up the shaky video, which didn’t show much of anything with any clarity given the distance, the storm and the low-light, but Steve could just make out the immense shape of Hulk leaping high in the air atop a cliff. There was no chance that the JTF wouldn’t have seen this by now.

“Natasha is inbound to extract Doctor Banner…I don’t suppose you might be willing to provide safe harbor for another one of my friends, Your Majesty.”

Okoye looked sharply to her king with an expression which clearly suggested what an _incredibly_ bad idea that was, but T’Challa only chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. “Shuri would never forgive me if I did not agree. She has wanted to meet Doctor Banner for as long as I can remember. I will advise my ambassador to assist Miss Romanoff with her extraction, should the need arise.”

Steve thought about his phone call with Wanda and frowned, a feeling of unease leaving him cold. “I think we can count on the need arising…”

Norway was _crawling_ with Asgardians, because of course Tony wouldn’t bother to have relayed _that_ particular fact. Despite her irritation at having been caught up in one of Steve and Tony’s little power games, Natasha couldn’t help but admire Tony’s guile. Most of the time the workings that came out of his mind did little to impress her – a weapon was still just a weapon, no matter how many bells and whistles it had – but every now and then his genius really shone through in his ability to manipulate others.

If Tony _had_ told Steve that he was harboring an Asgardian army, it would have brought them in force, expecting to find themselves caught up in a potential world-ending event. More than that, Steve would have immediately contacted the Wakandans and Natasha would have notified Nick. By asking only for an extraction of Bruce, Tony had all but guaranteed that she would be the only person showing up tonight.

“Clever girl,” Natasha murmured, smiling very slightly.

The camp wasn’t particularly inspired, in fact if it weren’t for the fact that it was composed of interlocking metal panels in red and gold, she would have thought it looked like a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. layout. Curiously, there appeared to be a second, small camp inside the greater structure that looked _exactly_ like the old field set-ups she remembered. Those particular assignments had always been Phil’s babies, usually with Clint on protection detail, but they had often sent her photos; Phil because he’d been an enormous dork for the strange and otherworldly, Clint because he found Phil’s fanboying hilarious. Natasha brushed away the brief throb of regret she felt for the loss of Phil Coulson and decided that the interior camp was where she was most likely to find Bruce. Where there was a lab, there was bound to be a mad scientist.

Tony’s Iron Legion were patrolling the perimeter of the encampment, but there was a particular rhythm to it that would leave her just enough time to slip through undetected. Given that she’d been invited, Natasha assumed this was deliberate to assure Tony’s innocence when the JTF inevitably came banging on the door. It was tempting not to use the ‘Black Widow Entrance’ just to be contrary, but so long as Tony was rolling out the red carpet for her, she supposed that she could humor him.

It wasn’t totally without effort that she slipped through Tony’s defenses, but rather it took precisely _her_ effort to dart through the tiny blind spot and scale the outer wall. Natasha tried not to think too hard about how much data he had gathered on them all over the years. With Tony, anything was possible and she would be lying if she didn’t sometimes wake in a cold sweat to dream of what he could do with it.

Despite the crowds of people within the walls, Natasha found it easy to move unseen to her goal. The Asgardians had a look about them that she was starting to recognize all too well; a shell-shocked expression she’d seen in New York and Sokovia, in Nigeria and South Africa. In the mirror when she’d learned of S.H.I.E.L.D’s poisonous heart. It was the look of one who had completely lost their mooring in the world, who had seen something so impossible that they could barely process what was happening.

The almost tangible feel of recent trauma in the air meant that Natasha had to adjust her earlier assessment of the encampment as she moved toward the heart of it. Though she had spent enough time with Thor to know that they were certainly Asgardian…this was not an army. In fact, there were but a few she saw that Natasha could recognize as fighters; and of those, several were the full definition of alien, creatures she could not have thought up on her best day. Despite all the tales of bravado Thor had regaled them with over the years, it was painfully clear these weren’t the Asgardian warriors of legend…they were the _survivors_.

“What the _hell_ , Vision,” Natasha heard Tony complain and quickly melted into the shadows, watching as the pair of them came into view. “What’s the point of having Skynet on the team if you can’t catch this shit before it goes _viral_.”

“I am _not_ omniscient, Tony,” Vision told him calmly. “And I would remind you that I am not your _servant_. You cannot expect me to monitor the entirety of the Internet at any given moment. That is a purpose you must set for one of your seemingly innumerable _non-sentient_ programs.”

Tony sighed and rubbed at his face with a groan. “Cool it, Pinocchio, I know you’re a real boy. I just _thought_ that you _might_ be monitoring this particular situation, given that we’re harboring a wanted man and, oh yeah, _thousands_ of alien refugees that _you_ helped bring here.”

Vision actually looked a little chastised. “Again, I apologize that I did not make you aware of my intentions sooner. Given your past history with Loki and your…more questionable methods of protection against off-world invasion, I thought it best to wait.” Tony scoffed and Natasha frowned deeply at the mention of Loki, but Vision quickly continued before Tony could vocalize his complaints. “I…was, in fact, monitoring the web traffic released from this region, but I became…distracted.”

“Distracted?” Tony repeated, folding his arms. “Last time you told me you were distracted, Rhodey ended up with a new pair of dancing shoes.”

“And the cause of the distraction is the same now as it was then,” Vision admitted quietly.

“Wanda,” Tony said sourly, looking troubled. “I thought she was laying low in London.”

“She was…and is still, I believe,” the android confirmed. “But I feel as though she is…reaching for me. It is likely she is not even doing it consciously, but…I feel she may be in some distress.”

From her place in the shadows, Natasha went rigid, making a mental note to let Steve know as soon as possible. She sincerely hoped that Wanda’s ability to reach Vision from London had to do with their shared connection to the stone at the android’s brow. The absolute last thing she wanted was to feel the touch of Wanda’s magic in her mind again, ripping open memories long dead and buried.

“Wonderful. I was just thinking that we needed to add _more_ weirdness to the current situation,” Tony said sardonically. His phone chimed softly and he checked it, then swore profusely. “It’s Secretary Ross. Listen, do me a favor and don’t go running off to Sabrina until we can get the big guy out of here.”

“Perhaps we should ask the Wakandans for assistance,” Vision commented, nodding toward a point off in the distance.

“ _Absolutely_ not,” Tony said, pulling a face. “I am _not_ dealing with those smug bastards today on top of everything else.”

“It is only natural to feel inadequate when-“

“Oh. My. _Thor_ ,” Tony groaned, giving Vision a withering glare as he stalked away, picking up the call on his phone. “Secretary Ross! Lovely to hear from you, please hold.”

Natasha watched him go, remaining where she was until Vision had also drifted well out of sight. If Secretary Ross was calling Tony, the JTF was already en route to their location. The time table for getting Bruce out of here undetected had just shortened drastically. Glancing up toward where Vision had said the Wakandans to be, Natasha hoped that Steve had already negotiated a quick pick-up with T’Challa should it come to that.

She made it to the field tents at the center of the encampment without further delay, ducking inside and weaving through the interlocking segments quickly, but quietly. There were more Asgardians here, several of which had the intensely thoughtful look so common among men and women of science. Natasha paused briefly when she recognized Erik Selvig, who was speaking enthusiastically with a tall Asgardian with dark skin and red eyes, but quickly moved on, lest he recognize her. Finally she found Bruce at the central most lab of the construct, looking through one of Tony’s tablets as though he’d never left.

It wasn’t as though her heart stopped at the sight of him. Rather, it was like it had suddenly kicked on again, giving a small, hopeful lurch to see him there, alive and whole. Chiding herself for being so childishly sentimental, Natasha slipped into the lab and leaned up against one of the work tables casually.

“How’d a nice boy like you wind up working in a dump like this?” she asked lightly.

Bruce jumped a little in surprise, twitchy in a way that suggested he’d been green fairly recently. Giving her a wide-eyed look, Bruce simply stared at Natasha for a span of breaths, then managed a ragged smile. “Dame done me wrong,” he whispered and she swallowed thickly.

“You got lousy taste in women, mister,” Natasha said softly and meant it despite herself, brushing her red hair back behind an ear.

“Nat,” he breathed and her heart twisted in a way that was wholly unfair.

“ _Three years_ , Bruce,” she said, looking away from him in hopes of dispelling the unseemly swell of emotion he aroused. Natasha looked about the lab instead, taking in the various pieces of alien tech, soil samples and metal fragments that were laid out for examination. A polished rod worked over in attractive swirls of a silvery metal, most likely platinum, caught her eye and she wondered idly if it were a shock baton. “You don’t call, you don’t write. Here I thought ghosting was just for millennials.”

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly. “I…got lost.”

“Lost,” she repeated and flicked her eyes back toward him.

“In space?” Bruce said it like a question, then grimaced. “Please don’t make any Will Robinson jokes. Tony has been insufferable enough already.”

“You were on _Asgard_?” Natasha asked incredulously, putting it all together.

“No, not- Well, yes, briefly, but…it’s complicated,” Bruce admitted and Natasha simply nodded, because wasn’t it always? They stared at one another for a long moment before he spoke again, his voice soft and almost hesitant. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?” she wondered honestly. He opened his mouth to respond, but his words died out as an Asgardian came into the lab, brandishing a decanter that Natasha was fairly certain she’d seen hidden on Tony’s personal Quinjet before.

“Bruce, we _have_ to get off this planet,” she protested loudly, waving the cut crystal bottle at him. “This tastes like _water_.” Taking notice of Natasha suddenly, she stopped in surprise, eyes widening with recognition.

“Uh…” the scientist said intelligently, looking between them with a flush that made his relationship to the Asgardian immediately apparent. “Val, this is Nat. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff.”

“Yes, thank you,” the Asgardian, ‘Val’, said with a wry smile. “I remember.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You… Oh. Yes, right,” he said, and nodded. “Right, you would. Um… Nat, this is the Valkyrie.”

“Hi,” Natasha said shortly, her expression blank. This was fine; good even. It had, as she kept reminding herself, been three years. It was only natural that Bruce might have moved on. Honestly, it was a relief.

Looking at the Asgardian, Natasha was glad not to feel anything so ridiculous as _vitriol_ toward the woman, who was achingly beautiful in the way all Asgardians seemed to be. She was clearly a warrior, a languid confidence in her stance despite the fact that she was still wielding Tony’s decanter. The Valkyrie was also, she suddenly realized, running her dark eyes appreciatively over Natasha in a way that might have had her blushing if not for the years of training that had beaten such coquettishness from her. Their eyes met and there was no mistaking the heat in the Valkyrie’s gaze.

Oh. _Oh_. Well. That…was worth considering.

“Wait…” Bruce said slowly, looking between the two of them. “What just happened?”

“I’ll explain it when you’re older,” the Valkyrie told him with a wan smile, biting her lip.

“ _What?_ ” Bruce asked, sounding vaguely panicked.

Natasha cleared her throat lightly and schooled her expression, refocusing on the mission. “Not the time, Bruce. Let’s worry about breaking you out of here first.”

“Thank the Norns,” the Valkyrie said in relief even as Bruce boggled at her.

“You’re…breaking me out of _Tony’s_ camp? Am I a prisoner?”

Rolling her eyes upward, Natasha lifted her hands as though pleading to some unnamed god. “Does he seriously not explain anything to anyone? Yes, Bruce. I’m breaking you out of Tony’s camp, because otherwise the UN is going to throw you into prison and Tony will have to _let them_.” She stiffened instinctively when Bruce started to look a little green, adrenaline flooding her system as her body told her to _run_.

Looking over, the Valkyrie frowned and gripped Bruce by the shoulder, squeezing. “That isn’t helpful right now,” she told him seriously. “Keep it together.”

Closing his eyes, Bruce took several steadying breaths, his jaw clenched tight before he slowly relaxed, the greenish hue fading away again. “Okay,” he said gruffly, opening his eyes. “I’m okay. But I need to know _exactly_ what’s going on with everyone.”

Natasha pursed her lips, feeling edgy with the adrenaline still running through her, unspent. “Cliff notes only, we’re on the clock,” she said firmly. “The UN wanted oversight on all persons actively engaged in saving the world. Some agreed, some didn’t. There…were some other things going on, too, but we’ll have to save the intricacies for later.” She gave him a serious look. “Long story short, Team Stark is playing nice with the UN and will lose the ability to operate legitimately as the Avengers if they have to publicly intervene in your arrest.”

Bruce rubbed a hand over his face, looking pale and overwhelmed. “ _Jesus_ , I was gone _five minutes_.”

“Actually, Doctor Banner, you were gone nearly three years,” Vision corrected coolly as he slid through the wall to join them. He nodded to Natasha in greeting. “Miss Romanoff.”

“Vision,” she replied calmly. “Here to try and ‘stop us’ so Stark can get a good video clip of his efforts for the JTF?”

“Do you believe you could offer resistance if I did?” Vision wondered curiously and the Valkyrie tensed for a fight. He held up his hands peaceably, however, shaking his head. “Mister Stark would merely like to ask that you please accelerate your leaving, as the advance team of the Joint Task Force is less than fifty kilometers away. His personal Quinjet is currently online and prepped for departure, should you wish to steal it for expedience sake.”

“Well gosh, isn’t Mister Stark just so _accommodating,_ ” Natasha gushed mockingly, batting her eyes at the android. “I might as well help myself to some of his new toys while I’m at it.” Smirking, she moved to the pick up the baton she’d been admiring earlier.

Vision blinked once and started to lift a hand to stop her when he saw what she was reaching for. “No, that’s-“

But Natasha’s fingers had already closed about the haft of Mjolnir and as lightning sang through her bones she heard nothing but the roar of thunder and an ancient voice whispering into her mind.

_“Whosoever holds this hammer, be they worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This closes up the goings on of Earth in the immediate aftermath of Rebuild All Your Ruins. Some of what I have planned for what's to come has been drafted since I wrote the very first chapter of that back in November, though I never thought that I'd actually bring it to light back then. Since then it has grown exponentially, driven by the first couple Infinity War trailers and my MCU marathons and the wild theories that have pinged about my brain (i.e. is Natasha blonde because she's THOR). That being said, if anything (other than what's already come up in the trailers) ends up being _true_ , then...I don't even know.
> 
> Things will take a darker turn in World Stops Turning. Some heroes will die, because that's what happens in war...but being that this is Marvel, that doesn't necessarily mean that they stay gone. It _will_ have a happy ending in the way I feel a proper ending should be...a little tragic, a lot hopeful and less an ending than a new beginning.

“You know what the problem with being a superhero is?” Scott lamented, twisting the cap off his cheap beer.

“Chafing,” Luis guessed immediately.

“What? No! Well, maybe a little…”

“Getting fired,” he rapidly guessed again.

“Hey, I wasn’t fired! I wasn’t an Avenger, I was…an _anti_ -Avenger. A rebel! You can’t get fired from a _rebellion_ ,” Scott insisted.

“Scott,” Maggie called from inside the house, where she could clearly hear him through the open window. “We talked about using the ‘A’ word.”

“Sorry, honey!” Scott called back reflexively.

“Scott,” Paxton said more sternly. “We talked about _that_ , too.”

“Sorry, honey!” Scott repeated and Paxton’s sigh was audible even where they sat on the porch.

“I got it,” Luis said confidently. “It’s getting thrown in jail by Iron Man, then serving house arrest at your ex-wife’s house, cuz her fiancé was the only one willing to assume custody from the brass.”

“ _Politics_ , Luis,” Scott told him flatly, scowling. “I was going to say that _politics_ are the problem with being a superhero.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. That makes sense, too, bro,” Luis agreed jovially and clicked his bottle against Scott’s.

Slumping back in his chair, Scott sighed and took a long pull of beer, glaring at the anklet blinking up at him from his leg. He didn’t regret signing on to Team Cap two years ago, because who could regret helping _Captain America_ , but he definitely wished that he hadn’t gotten caught. Looking back at it now, he wasn’t entirely sure what his thought for the end game had been. He’d been so spun up in everything that was going on that he forgot about his most important rule. Before you do the job, you get the _facts_ and make a _plan_.

Scott had been flattered when Cap came to break him out of the Raft, though he knew it probably had more to do with his cellmates than a personal bond between them, but he’d respectfully declined. Breaking out only assured that he would become a fugitive again, and _that_ meant no Cassie. As much as he loved being the Ant-Man, _nothing_ was more important to Scott than his daughter.

Fortunately his gamble worked, though it rankled that _Tony Stark_ had arranged for his release from the Raft on account of his good conduct. Given that without the Pym tech Scott Lang was fairly unremarkable compared to the Raft’s other occupants, the JTF was hardly fussed to be rid of him. Not that it stopped them from outfitting Scott with the latest and greatest in ankle monitors, which he could break out of in his _sleep_ , but he was on his very best behavior. Spending the last eight months trapped in this house had been unquestionably the most emasculating experience of Scott’s life, but at least he got to see Cassie every day.

“Yo, dude…check that guy across the street!” Luis whispered excitedly, leaning toward Scott. “Isn’t that an _Avenger?_ ”

Scott looked up in surprise and immediately got to his feet when he recognized Sam Wilson standing across the street as though he weren’t a wanted man, wearing a pair of aviators and a smirk that meant business. His heart raced, because despite what he’d just said about superheroes, Scott _missed_ being one. But he also glanced about nervously because he _knew_ that he was under surveillance. His favorite new accessory wasn’t really about him at all…Scott was fully aware that what the JTF really wanted was _Hank_.

Sam started across the street with a swagger that was just _so_ damn cool, but Scott anxiously flapped his hands at him as though to shoo him away. “ _Hey_ , no, are you _crazy?_ ” he whispered loudly at him.

“ _Relax_ , Tic Tac,” Sam said with a grin. “Already took care of it. We need to talk.”

“Hey, man, you’re Falcon, right?” Luis asked eagerly, pulling out his phone. “Can I get a picture?”

“Luis, he’s a _fugitive_ ,” Scott hissed at him, quickly reaching out to snatch his phone away.

“Aw, come on, that photo’d get me in like _that_ with the chicks, Scotty!” Luis complained, trying to get his phone back.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine without my help,” Sam said with an amused grin.

“Hey, didn’t Scott like, beat your ass as an audition for the Avengers?”

Sam’s grin faded and he gave Scott a _look_ , who smiled nervously in return. “Should we maybe talk inside? We should talk inside. _Bye_ , Luis!” he said pointedly and tossed his friend back his phone before grabbing Sam’s arm and hauling him inside the house before anyone else could spot him. “Hey, I’ve got a visitor, I’ll just be a minute, nothing important!” He spoke rapidly to keep Maggie and Paxton from processing the information right away and hustled Sam up the stairs to shove him in the linen closet. Stepping in beside him, Scott shut them in to the confined space and let out a breath.

“Dude,” Sam said severely. “What the actual fuck.”

“I don’t know! It’s not like I have a lot of _privacy_ available to me right now, okay?” Scott blustered, flipping on the light so at least they weren’t also in total darkness. “What are you even doing here?”

Still perturbed by the too-close quarters, Sam looked as though he was very much regretting his decision to come. “I thought I knew. Now I’m not so sure.”

“ _Sam_.”

“Seriously not cool, I’m just saying,” Sam told him frankly, then relented. “Look, there’s a chance something big is coming. I’m talking world-ending big.”

Scott’s heart, which had yet to slow since Sam’s sudden reappearance in his life, suddenly shuddered to a halt at that. “What is it? Is it Stark? Did he build more evil robots?” Eyes widening, Scott gasped softly. “Did he build a _giant_ evil robot?”

“What? No, dude, Tony’s got nothing to do with it. I think. And I can’t tell if you’re upset or excited.”

“Me either!” Scott admitted with a short, desperate laugh. “So what is it, then?”

“We…don’t know. Not yet.”

“Okay, so…when will it get here?”

“Don’t know that either,” Sam sighed.

Scott stared at Sam for a moment, then blinked. “Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,” he said slowly. “You want me to break the law, _again_ , because something may or may not be about to happen. And you don’t know what or when or why or _if_ it’s happening.”

“Come on, man, you can’t be happy with… _this_ ,” Sam insisted, gesturing at the closet. “Two years ago, you were fighting alongside _Avengers_. And now? I just watched you drink a _Bud Light_ , Scott.”

“It was a Bud Light Lime,” Scott murmured defensively.

“ _Scott_.”

He grimaced and scrubbed his hands over his face, sighing heavily. “I just…can’t, Sam. I’m sorry, I really am. I’d love nothing more than to pop the lock on this anklet and run off to save the world with you, but…I can’t do that to Cassie. I just have to get through another six months of this and then I’m back on regular old parole.”

“They’re not going to stop, Scott…you know that, right?” Sam asked him grimly. “They want that tech.”

Scott smiled wryly at him, because he _did_ know, but he couldn’t dwell on the thought. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity in all this. “I don’t even _have_ the suit anymore. I’m not like you and the others…without it, I’m not a genius or a soldier or a spy. I’m just a pretty okay cat burglar.”

Brow furrowed, Sam stared at him for a beat, looking torn between wanting to shut him down and build him up. Whatever he might have decided on was interrupted by Maggie pulling open the closet door to stare inside. She looked between the pair of them slowly, then gave her ex-husband a long, searching look.

“Scott,” she began, taking a breath as though to fortify herself. “ _Why_ are you hiding in the closet with an Avenger?”

“Well, Maggie,” he said seriously. “We always wondered why it could never work out between us…”

“ _Dude_ ,” Sam said again as Maggie sighed heavily.

He gave them both a sheepish grin and reached out to grab the doorknob. “Just give me a minute, okay?” Scott closed the door on Maggie’s disapproving scowl and sighed. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve got to put my family first this time.”

Recognizing a lost cause when he saw one, Sam nodded. “Yeah, I know. And I get it…you’re a lucky guy, Scott. You might think that you’re not one of us without the suit, but you’ve got more than most of us do. Here,” he pulled something from his pocket that rattled and pressed it into Scott’s hand. “In case you change your mind.” Giving him a smile and a nod, he pushed open the door of the closet and stepped out, apologizing to Maggie for dropping by unannounced as he left.

“Huh,” Scott grunted thoughtfully as he considered Sam’s parting words, glancing down at his hand.

He grinned when he saw the pack of Tic Tacs he was holding, chuckling wryly, then paused as he noticed something dark among the little white mints. Holding it up to the light, Scott’s breath caught as he recognized the miniaturized lines of the Ant-Man suit, nestled in among its Tic Tac brethren. Heart racing again, Scott grinned at the plastic mint box and tucked it safely into his front pocket. Just in case.

“Rotate your hand for me. Now the other way. Are you _sure_ there’s no delay there?”

“Shuri, it’s fine,” Steve heard Bucky say as his Dora Milaje escort led him into the lab. He nodded his thanks to her and peered down over the walkway, but Steve couldn’t see his old friend among the clean lines of the work tables and myriad of futuristic prototypes laid out on the floor below.

“Fine? _Fine?_ This is the most advanced prosthetic on the face of the Earth, I think it’s a lot better than _fine_ ,” Shuri scolded and Steve’s steps faltered in descending the ramp because Bucky _laughed_.

“Okay, it’s swell. Dandy? Ducky,” he teased her and Shuri groaned in response.

“You are actually the worst, you know that? I should put you back in the freezer,” she threatened, and Steve could see her brandishing a long pointed instrument at Bucky as he finally caught sight of them, tucked in an alcove beneath the spiral descent.

“I doubt that’ll fix him, ma’am,” Steve said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “Stupid like that is incurable.”

“Captain Rogers!” Shuri greeted him with a bright grin, her braids swaying as she bobbed her head. “They told me you brought presents!”

Beside her, Bucky’s grin faded at the sight of him and Steve felt a sharp pain at the guilty, resigned look that replaced his easy smile. Clearing his throat lightly, he managed to give Shuri a nod. “Sure did, Highness. Natasha said that one of the crates was labeled ‘weaponized hoverboards’.”

“ _Cool_ ,” she said eagerly, her eyes lighting up. “I bet I can make them even cooler if you give me an hour. Probably less. We can make you like Marty McFly, eh?” Shuri nudged Bucky with her elbow, then paused as she finally noticed the change in his demeanor. Her eyes widened slightly as she rapidly deduced the cause and she turned more fully toward Bucky, whispering fiercely. “No… Are you _serious?_ ”

Bucky gave her a look and Steve felt awkward that he could hear everything she said with his enhanced hearing, shifting a little where he stood. “For Bast’s sake… You are so _stupid!_ I should beat you over the head with your own arm!”

“Shuri,” Bucky said in a quelling tone and she tossed up her hands.

“ _Bah_ ,” she declared in disgust and raised her voice again. “Well I’m just going to go do some work. Over there. Let you two _catch up_.” Shuri jabbed at Bucky with the instrument she was still holding before pushing past him with a withering look.

They watched her go in a tense silence, neither speaking as they regarded one another. Steve’s throat felt dry and cracked from all the questions burning in it, but for now he simply looked at Bucky, taking in all that had changed since he went into cryosleep two years ago. Bucky had lost weight, yet stood taller, which Steve guessed meant that the new arm was vibranium, no longer demanding that bone and flesh compensate for the weight of lesser alloy. More than that, he’d finally lost the brittle pain that he’d worn like a mask, leaving his eyes devoid of everything Steve knew and loved. And Steve _did_ love him…oh _God_ did he love him.

Bucky, who had been taking in Steve in just the same way, suddenly gave him a wry smile that pulled at his heart. “Your mother would have chased you with a switch to see you wear your hair that long.”

A startled laugh pulled from Steve and he shook his head, gesturing at him. “Look who’s talkin’, buddy.”

Grinning, Bucky ducked his head slightly and brushed metal fingers through the thick mane of his hair. “Yeah…I keep meaning to cut it, but-“

“It looks good,” Steve said quickly, then flushed. “You…you look good, Buck.”

His grin fading, guilt rose in Bucky’s expression again and his eyes tightened somewhat. “I’m sorry, Steve. I should have told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Steve wondered softly, wanting to fold his arms for how exposed he felt.

“At first…I wanted to be sure it would stick,” Bucky admitted. “I couldn’t trust myself, what they did to me. I didn’t want to put you through that again.” Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the wall of the alcove, sighing. “After a while, I knew I was just using that as an excuse. They said you were on mission. That you were still fighting, still trying to make the world a better place…just like you always do.” He gave Steve a rather helpless smile. “I figured maybe for once I wouldn’t send you off course.”

“Bucky…” Steve breathed and stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder, grounding himself. “My course is always going to lead back to you, you get that, right? End of the line.” He said the last firmly, tightening his grip.

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, then clasped at him in return, a smirk at his lips. “You’re still a punk, you know that, Rogers?”

“Yeah, well you can take the kid out of Brooklyn…” Feeling more at ease, Steve released him, gesturing at his arm. “I see they gave you an upgrade.”

Nodding, Bucky held up his hand, blue-black alloy gleaming in the bright light of the lab. He flexed his fingers open and closed smoothly and Steve couldn’t hear anything beyond the faint click of joints, far removed from the hum and whirr of Zola’s crude work. The motion was so fluid, Bucky looked as though he might have simply been wearing a metallic glove over flesh and blood.

“Shuri,” he said in explanation. “Kid’s way too smart to waste her time on the likes of me, but…” Sighing, Bucky shook his head and let it go. “At least I can try and make myself useful in return.”

“T’Challa mentioned that you’ve been training his warriors,” Steve said and some of his earlier doubt crept into his voice.

“It’s fine, Steve. Really, I don’t mind training them. It reminds me a little of better times and if it can keep them alive against someone like me…” He shrugged lightly, folding his arms once more. “Then it’s worth it.”

“Guess I can’t argue that,” Steve agreed. Bucky scrutinized him closely and he felt the heat of a blush at his ears under his gaze. “What?”

“You have that look,” Bucky told him.

“Look? What look?”

“That look that says you’ve got a mission,” he said pointedly. “Time was, you wouldn’t have hesitated to give the order.”

“I can’t ask you to put yourself back out there, Bucky. You’ve done enough,” Steve said earnestly.

Bucky gave him a look, then nodded his head toward the walkway. “Come with me,” he told him and his tone brokered no argument.

He led Steve back up the spiral ascent and out of the lab, taking them through a series of corridors, past Wakandans of various professions that ignored or greeted Bucky in turn, casting curious glances at his companion. Finally, Bucky led him through a wide bay that broke out of the mountain, the sprawl of Wakanda stretching out as far as the eye could see.

“Look,” Bucky instructed as Steve came to stand beside him.

Brow furrowed, Steve glanced over the landscape, unsure what it was he should be looking for. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he turned to Bucky with a frown. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

With a sigh, Bucky moved behind Steve and took hold of his shoulders, twisting him back to face the landscape again. “The _sunset_ , dummy,” he grumbled and Steve shivered slightly at the brush of breath against his neck. “When was the last time you just…stopped?”

Looking out across the lush expanse, Steve was startled to find that he honestly couldn’t recall when he’d last taken the time to do something as innocuous as watching the sun set. It was achingly beautiful; a sight that made his hand twitch with the desire to capture it, to sketch a pale reflection of what could only be truly experienced in the moment.

“When Shuri brought me back, I spent a lot of time just…looking. Watching the sun rise and set, the play of light on the water, wind in the trees. Watching families in the village, working together, children making up games on the fly. I thought about you a lot,” he admitted softly. “About how you would have sketched them into those notebooks you were always carrying around. About how places like this still exist because of the things you’ve done.”

Bucky tightened his grip on Steve’s shoulders slightly, then turned him slowly round again to look at him seriously. “But you don’t even see it anymore, do you? Not the way you used to.”

“Buck…” Steve breathed out and felt as though he’d been punched, his chest tight.

“If you’re going into a fight, you know I’ve got your back. I’ll be _there_ , Steve, anytime you need me,” he said seriously. “I’m _fine_. I know how to turn it off and on, now. To fight when I need to, then rest and _recover_. You need that, too. You’re so concerned that having to kill again might be bad for me that you can’t even see how it’s _destroying_ you.” Bucky released him finally, but he didn’t step back, still watching Steve closely. “When is it _enough?_ There’s nothing more you have to prove. Not to anyone, least of all me.”

Steve stared at him helplessly, flayed open to the core, to the skinny, stubborn kid who could never back down from a fight, never admit defeat. He knew in his heart that he hadn’t really been _living_ in the decade since they brought him out of the ice…he’d been _surviving_. Moving from mission to mission, always ready for the next threat, the next fight, because the moment that he stopped to think about all that he’d lost, he might just start screaming and find himself unable to stop.

Natasha had seen it, had spent months trying to get him back out in the world, setting him up on dates doomed to fail, needling him into social engagements beyond the job. Tony had seen it, too. Hell, if he were honest with himself, _Peggy_ had seen it, even as her aging mind struggled to stay in the present. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Bucky could see through him, when Bucky had known Steve long before any of this. Clearly the only one Steve had fooled was his own damn self.

Steve wanted to kiss him. He wanted to _cry_. He did neither as a soft chime sounded from Bucky’s wrist and he finally stepped back from Steve to touch the beads there. Shuri’s face projected upwards from the central bead, looking excited.

“Bucky! Is Captain Rogers still with you?” she asked quickly. Nodding, Bucky turned so that she could see them both and she grinned. “Excellent! You will want to want to see this!”

Her image disappeared and was replaced by the footage of the Asgardian encampment that Okoye had displayed for Steve earlier. Only now, it was partially obscured by a wash of lightning, unnaturally fixed from a central point.

“Thor,” Steve guessed, shoving back the emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him just now. “I need to speak with T’Challa… I get the feeling that things just got more complicated.”

From the moment Natasha’s hand had closed about the rod lying innocently upon the worktable, the room had quickly dissolved into chaos. Lightning arced out in every direction and the Valkyrie quickly pulled Bruce in close to shield him as best she could, grunting at the sting of it. He resisted her instinctively, but he was nowhere even close to her strength in this form and she easily pulled him from the lab, cupping his face once they were out in the corridor.

“All right?” she asked quickly, raising her voice over the rolling thunder. Green flashed under her hands and she cursed and shook him. “ _Bruce!_ Stay with me, smart guy.” He growled deeply in reply and the Valkyrie hurriedly pressed a kiss to his mouth, willing him not to change.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Bruce jerked back as he regained control, his eyes wide. “Nat! Is she-“

“I don’t know,” she admitted, releasing him and moving to try and see through the snarl of lightning still ripping through the lab, confined in by the safety glass. “But it…it _feels_ like…”

“Thor,” Heimdall finished as he strode quickly down the corridor to stand beside them, looking in.

Erik came jogging after him and moaned at the state of his lab, pushing his hands through his hair. “All my research was in there!”

“What in Hel’s name were you researching?” the Valkyrie wondered and Bruce jerked as though he’d been electrocuted.

“Oh my God,” he murmured, looking between the lab and Erik Selvig rapidly. “Oh my _God_ , was _that-_ Did she-“

The Valkyrie glanced at him in concern, but he didn’t seem to be going green, despite the fact that he looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. “Bruce?”

He didn’t answer her and instead stared wide-eyed into the lab as the lightning suddenly died away. They all stared into the room, dark except for the faint glow from the jewel at Vision’s brow. He had remained in the lab through it all, utterly unmoved from where he’d been standing when the lightning first began. The lights flickered and then came back on with a soft thrum and they saw her.

Gone were the dark stealth fatigues and tactical gear, replaced by hardened leather and plate armor in the Asgardian style; shielding only what was most vital to allow freedom of movement. A regal cape of deep crimson hung from her shoulders and fine, _blonde_ hair spilled from beneath a winged helm that partially obscured her face. She still had hold of Mjolnir’s haft, but it had been joined by the broken pieces of its head, orbiting the rod and sharing the occasional arc of electricity between the jagged parts. She was _breathtaking_ and the Valkyrie felt an instinctive pull toward her, to serve and protect her lady in all the battles to come.

“Thor?” Erik asked in confusion, unsure how to process what he was seeing with what he knew of his god-like friend.

“ _Natasha_ ,” Bruce gasped and pushed through the door back into the lab.

“ _What?_ ” Erik gaped after him.

“You are correct, Erik Selvig,” Heimdall said firmly. “She wields Mjolnir. She is Thor.”

“What does that mean?” the Valkyrie asked him, frowning. “Thor…he’s not…”

Heimdall looked at her a long moment, his crimson gaze inscrutable, then he shook his head. “This does not necessarily mean that he is gone. Thor need not be killed to be found unworthy of his power.”

“Unworthy?” she said incredulously. “He saved his people from Hela’s wrath!”

“And then _abandoned_ them to this realm,” Heimdall countered firmly.

The Valkyrie’s mouth tightened and she looked away from him. “Curse the peculiarities of the Aesir and Vanir,” she growled and headed into the lab after Bruce.

“Natasha?” Bruce was saying softly as she came to stand beside him. “Are you alright?”

“Her vital signs appear to be normal,” Vision said softly. “In fact, I would say that she appears to be healthier than she was before she took up the hammer.”

Ignoring him, Bruce stepped closer to her, brow furrowed in concern. “Nat… Can you hear me?”

“I…hear you,” she said after a long pause, sounding dazed. “I…what has happened? What-“ Natasha tensed and electricity sparked over the hammer as she came fully back to herself. She flinched back from them, crashing into the work table behind her and crumpling it like paper. Reaching a shaking hand up to her helm, she felt at it in confusion before flinging it away, denting the wall with the force of it. “What sorcery is this?” Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with a hand, looking wildly between them. “Why is my speech affected in this manner?”

“You’re speaking like an Asgardian,” the Valkyrie said slowly in realization. “Like an extremely _old-fashioned_ Asgardian.”

“What?” Natasha sounded panicked, her breath coming shallowly now.

“It will likely pass once you have grown used to the ancient power of Asgard in your mind,” Heimdall explained as he joined them.

“ _What?_ ” she demanded and thunder rolled through her voice. Natasha stared down at herself and saw what she was holding for the first time, going stiff with shock. “NO!” She flung the hammer away from her in a panic and it crashed through the wall, vanishing from view for a few moments before it came sailing right back into her hand. “No, I do not _want_ this! My mind is my own! My _body_ is my own!”

“My Queen,” Heimdall began and Natasha _roared_ at him, a bolt of lightning striking him in the chest, knocking him from his feet. Vision moved to check his vitals and nodded at them to assure that he was fine, though he lay unmoving on the floor.

“To be fair, he had that coming,” the Valkyrie commented lightly, folding her arms and smirking down at Heimdall’s prone form.

“Nat,” Bruce said gently, holding up his hands. “Maybe…put the hammer down?”

“Did you not see me try this already, fool?” she snarled at him, her hand tightening on the haft.

“I saw you _throw_ it,” he persisted, approaching her carefully. “Just…set it down. Gently.” Bruce brushed his fingers over her arm lightly and when Natasha didn’t immediately blast him back, he gingerly took hold of her. Slowly, he led her to one of the work tables that was still standing, guiding her hand until the hammer was resting against it. “Go ahead and let go.”

Gradually, as though the action took great effort, Natasha uncurled her fingers and let the hammer fall to the table with a thud, her breath leaving her in a rush of relief. “Odin’s beard…” she breathed softly and Bruce grinned at her.

“Is this what it’s like talking _me_ down?” he wondered and she glared at him feebly.

“I’m afraid you’re not nearly as attractive when you’re angry,” the Valkyrie teased, moving to join them.

“And here I thought you liked me better when I’m green.”

“Both of you will desist this nonsense,” Natasha said irritably, but she seemed much calmer now. “I am settled.”

“I like your cape,” Bruce replied with a dry smile.

“As do I,” the Valkyrie said appreciatively, running her eyes over the lines of Natasha’s armor.

Natasha scowled at them both.

New York was a jangling snarl of noise beyond Peter Parker’s closed bedroom window, a cacophony of car horns and growling engines that had been the background soundtrack of his life for as long as he could remember. Normally his window would be open, especially given the acrid aroma of melted alloys wafting up from the circuit board he was currently soldering, but an unseasonal snowstorm had slammed into the city overnight, raising tempers even as the temperature dropped. He tried not to think too hard on what threats might be going unchallenged while he was stuck inside, keeping himself occupied so that he didn’t end up crawling the walls. Literally.

Aunt May meant well with the Spider-Man embargo, he knew she did, and it stung a lot less now than it had two years ago when she’d first taken away his suit. Peter was still a minor, thus he could not properly register himself under the Sokovian Accords and so was not legally allowed to operate as a vigilante. Or, as May had more succinctly put it, Peter was grounded _for life_.

His door swung open and Peter jumped guiltily, not having heard May come home from work. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she zeroed in on what he was doing and Peter quickly blurted out, “It’s for school!”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, folding her arms and cocking her hip in the way she always did when she smelled bullshit. “What class would that be? _Web-Slinging 101?_ ”

“I wasn’t going to use it…” Peter grumbled in defeat, killing the power to his soldering iron and slumping in his chair.

May watched him, then sighed and came into the room to stand behind him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Peter, just one more year is all I’m asking. You’re seventeen now…you’re so _close_ to having to be an adult full-time, whether you want to or not.” She bent to wrap her arms about his shoulders, hiding her face against him. “Just be a kid a little longer for me…okay? You’re all I’ve got left.”

He swallowed thickly around the emotion that lodged in his throat, laying his hands over her arms and nodding silently. This was why Peter could never really resent her for taking away his secret identity…they shared the same pain of loss. His parents, Uncle Ben…they’d lost so much and it cut him deeply to think of May having to suffer any more on his account.

“I love you,” she said and squeezed his shoulders, pressing her lips to the top of his head.

“I love you, too,” Peter assured her, clearing his throat lightly. “I won’t use it, I promise.”

She pulled away from him, patting his shoulders gently. “I know, Pete,” she said gently, but sounded oddly resigned. “I don’t suppose you’ve been watching the news?”

“The news?” Peter repeated in surprise, turning in his chair to look up at her. “What about the news.”

Sighing, May turned and walked from the room and Peter quickly got up to follow her as she headed for the television, taking up the remote and turning it on. The words, ‘BREAKING NEWS: ALIENS IN NORWAY’ were displayed in large font beneath a pair of grim looking news anchors and Peter stared at them in shock.

_“-footage was taken last night by local fishermen at approximately ten-thirty Eastern Standard Time,”_ one of the anchors said and the screen was suddenly filled by a grainy video. Peter vaulted fluidly over the couch to stare closely at footage, his eyes wide.

“Oh my God…that looks like a portal! And that- Wait, I think that was _Hulk!_ Holy crap, has this been going on all day?” he asked frantically, wanting to look back at his aunt, but afraid to tear his eyes away from the screen.

“The news only broke an hour or so ago,” May said wearily, watching him.

_“Though no one has been able to get on scene as of yet, sources have confirmed that the Iron Legion was spotted patrolling the site,”_ the anchor continued. _“We’ll be covering this story as it develops.”_

Peter stiffened at the mention of the Iron Legion, his heart racing because this was big. This was _huge._ His phone rang back in his bedroom and Peter leapt backward without a thought, turning a neat somersault that had May exclaiming, “Enough with the acrobatics, already!” Shouting an apology over his shoulder, Peter bounded over to his desk to snatch it up his phone, flipping it over to see the screen. His heart sank when he saw the extremely unflattering caller ID for Ned, rather than the snap of the old Avengers tower that he’d assigned to Tony Stark.

Trying not to feel too disappointed, Peter picked up the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“ _Dude!_ ” Ned exclaimed and Peter winced and drew the speaker away from his head. “Did you see the news? _Aliens! Fricken aliens_ , dude!”

“Yeah, I saw it just now! Pretty wild!” Peter replied.

“Dude, are you going? You’re going, right? Like, you’ve got to get over there, right?”

Though he knew she couldn’t hear what Ned was saying, Peter still glanced guiltily at May, who stood watching him from the living room, her arms wrapped protectively about her middle. Not five minutes ago, Peter had been fully committed to putting Spider-Man on hold for her sake, had _promised_ her just _moments_ ago, yet he’d been prepared to break his word at the first sign of trouble. How low was _that?_

“Uh…no, Ned,” Peter said, his enthusiasm fading. “I’m sure the Avengers are going to handle it.”

Ned was quiet except for his breathing for a few seconds before he burst out, “ _Seriously?_ You’re seriously not going. Wait…they didn’t call you? Maybe they’re like…too busy kicking alien ass and need you to come save the day!”

“Nah, Ned…I don’t think so,” Peter admitted, slumping into his bed with a sigh. “I’m pretty sure Tony could call me from inside the Iron Man suit if he really wanted to.” He fell back against the mattress and stared numbly at the bunk bed above him.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Pete,” Ned said consolingly, because Ned was his best friend and morally obligated to cheer him up in situations like this. “I bet it’s not as big a deal as the news is making it out to be anyway. You know how corporate media is.”

He smiled a little and snorted in amusement, slowly steeling his resolve to just focus on being Peter Parker once more. “Thanks, Ned.” If Tony really needed Spider-Man, he’d call. And Peter, well…he’d figure that out when the time came.

Tony Stark didn’t ask for a lot in life.

No, that was a lie, Tony Stark demanded a _great deal_ from life, occasionally in gross excess, _however_ …he _really_ didn’t think it was too much to ask that people displayed some fucking _courtesy_ every now and again. For example, portaling an alien race to a politically unstable planet without so much as a please and thank you? Rude. _Knowing_ about said portaling well in advance and failing to mention it to your boss so that he could maybe run some damage control _before_ they arrived? Also rude. Using your boss’s PTSD against him as an excuse to not share information on the alien invasion you are leading to Earth? Well, that was just hurtful.

But setting off a crazy lightning storm during what was supposedly a _covert_ rescue operation, which was the _one thing_ he had asked for in all this mess? Inexcusable.

_“Blood pressure’s a little on the high side, boss,”_ FRIDAY warned, displaying a quick readout of his vitals on his glasses.

“Don’t I know it,” he grumbled, marching through the bright corridors of the Avengers Initiative field camp and trying not to flinch every time he caught sight of an Asgardian.

_“Remember your breathing exercises,”_ she advised and lightly tinted his lenses cornflower blue.

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed at the AI, then deliberately drew in a series of slow, controlled breaths; in through the nose, out through the mouth. “Again with the color therapy?”

_“Whatever works, boss,”_ she replied with satisfaction in her tone. “BP is dropping already.”

“Just in time to raise some hell,” Tony muttered and headed straight for the heart of the complex.

“I’ll get the door,” she promised and it swung open at just the right moment for the best dramatic effect. FRIDAY was good to him like that.

“Okay, I don’t know what kind of super spy school _you_ went to,” Tony complained loudly as he swept into the lab. “But when I asked for an extraction, I was hoping for just the _slightest hint_ of stealth to be involved.” His eyes darted about the room quickly, taking everything in, then he did a double-take and stared openly at Natasha. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I greatly admire a woman in costume, but _why_ did you decide to carry out a rescue mission in _cosplay?_ ”

“Apparently she’s Thor now,” the Valkyrie supplied helpfully, earning herself a glare from Natasha for her troubles.

Tony gaped at her for a long moment in case he’d missed the punchline in there, then said, “I’m sorry, I thought you just said she’s _Thor._ ”

“The hammer chose her,” Erik said from the doorway behind Tony, awe clear in his tone.

“Doctor Selvig, have you been skipping your meds again?” he asked, pointing at the Swede, who ignored him and instead continued to gaze at Natasha. Tony sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, okay… Can I get a clarification from someone in the room who is not, A: an Asgardian or B: previously possessed by an Asgardian?” Tony looked between Vision, Bruce and Natasha expectantly.

“Loki is _not_ Asgardian,” Heimdall growled from the floor as he slowly pushed himself back upright.

“Oh wow, I don’t care,” Tony sniped in return.

Natasha’s lips pursed unhappily as if she were trying to keep from speaking, but then she blurted out, “Do not think that this change in my being will in any way prevent me from slaying you where you stand, Stark.”

_“Boss, her bioelectric energy signature is almost identical to the data we have on Thor,”_ FRIDAY admitted softly, showing him the readout.

Tony’s jaw _dropped_ and he gaped at Natasha openly. “ _You?_ _You_ were found worthy,” he said flatly. “Over _Steve?_ ” He continued to stare at her for a few seconds, then threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

“Tony…” Bruce said disapprovingly, sighing at him.

“Hit him with your lightning,” the Valkyrie suggested.

_“Boss, the JTF…”_

“N-no, please,” Tony gasped, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “All hail the Queen, long may she reign and all that. I’ll send you a corgi or five, but I _really_ need you all to fuck off right now. The JTF is due to arrive…” Tony checked his watch and paled, sobering up immediately. “…three minutes ago.”

_“Attention,”_ a man’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker outside, _“you are illegally occupying territory under the protections of the Sokovian Accords. The United Nations Joint Task Force has you surrounded. We mean you no harm, but **will** take action if met with resistance or aggression. Please be prepared to surrender any and all alien weaponry and comply with all further instructions.”_

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as the JTF repeated their message again, already hearing cries of alarm and outrage from the Asgardians outside. “Well…we’re fucked. Any ideas? Vision? Banner? Blondie?”

“Blondie?” Natasha repeated and lifted a hand to her hair. Drawing a strand of it forward, her eyes widened, then she whipped around and glared at Mjolnir accusingly. “You _dare_ to change even _this?_ ”

“ _Please_ let the cameras be working,” Tony murmured gleefully, because Natasha was _yelling_ at a _hammer_.

_“Got it, boss,”_ FRIDAY assured him and he privately cheered. Quickly refocusing, Tony turned to Vision hopefully.

Vision looked distant for a long moment, but then shook his head. “Their network protocols are blocking me. I suspect that they may have been designed to block me _specifically_ ,” Vision said pointedly, giving Tony a searching look.

_“You re-wrote the JTF’s firewalls to block Vision’s biomechanical signature as a failsafe,”_ the AI reminded him and Vision frowned as though he’d heard her.

Wincing, Tony shrugged. “Sorry? It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Is there some reason we aren’t just taking them down?” the Valkyrie wondered curiously. “They’re only humans, aren’t they?”

“To attack the humans is to incite war,” Heimdall said stoically. “Despite that we would win, we risk further reducing our number in the aftermath.”

_“Breathing exercises,”_ FRIDAY said softly as Tony’s heart rate spiked.

“No Asgardians in the planning process,” he decided, their casual confidence making him more than a little anxious, drawing in quick breaths through his teeth. “FRIDAY, can you bring the Quinjet over here?”

There was a brief pause and then the AI spoke over the lab’s speakers so everyone could hear her, _“I can, but they’ll likely shoot it down the moment I do. They’ve probably already targeted it.”_

“What? Why wasn’t it _cloaked?_ ”

“Oooh, about that,” the Valkyrie began.

“Don’t touch my stuff!” Tony demanded, then rounded on Bruce. “I changed my mind, she has to go.”

“Tony,” Bruce said softly, looking resigned. “Maybe I should just…go with them.”

“Not an option,” Tony said firmly, all trace of humor gone. “What happened in South Africa was _not_ your fault and I’ll be damned if the UN makes an example of you for it.” No one said anything for a long, tense moment, then the silence was broken by a new voice projected outside. “Oh what now.”

_“This is Ambassador Nakia of Wakanda,”_ a woman spoke calmly and Tony _groaned_ , rolling his eyes. _“King T’Challa has offered asylum to all refugees of Asgard. This territory is now under the protection of Wakanda until such time as more permanent accommodations can be arranged.”_

There was a beat of silence, then the first speaker from the JTF sighed into his mic and lamented, _“Seriously, Nakia? You can’t just let me do my damn job even once?”_

_“Apologies, Agent Ross,”_ the woman replied, gentle amusement in her tone. _“It is a matter of politics.”_

The Valkyrie leaned toward Bruce, raising an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t tell me that Earth has a king.”

“I…didn’t _know_ that Earth has a king,” he said numbly, looking over at Tony. “Why does Earth have a king? Is this what Steve felt like when he came out of the ice?”

_“It looks like the Norwegian government just issued a statement confirming their partnership with Wakanda on this, boss,”_ FRIDAY murmured to him. _“The arrival of the Asgardians is officially public record.”_

“He’s _still_ not the king of _Earth_ ,” Tony grumbled, pulling out his phone. He sent a scathing message off to Steve for being an insufferable tattle-tale and snorted in amusement when he received a thumbs up in return. “Old man’s using _emoji_ now? Seriously? These are the end times…” Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Tony clapped his hands together. “Right, well I’m officially abandoning this shit show and heading back to New York. As amusing as it sounds, I’m not sticking around for the pissing contest between Wakanda and the JTF. Bruce?”

Bruce blinked owlishly at him and Tony felt a _little_ guilty for not sitting him down for The Talk before now. “I…yeah, I guess I should go, right? To make things easier for...whatever’s happening now.”

Natasha put a gentle hand on his arm, careful of the new strength in her grip. “I will not allow harm to befall you while you are at my side.”

A rather helpless grin broke out over Bruce’s face and he inclined his head toward her. “As seriously adorable as this is, I think I need to go. Just for a while, until I figure out what’s been going on. And you…look like you’ve got to figure out some things, too.”

Her mouth pursed in displeasure, but she nodded after a moment. “I agree that it is imperative that I set myself to rights before any more time has passed. If there is a battle to come I must be sure of my place in it, lest I falter. And you?” Natasha asked the Valkyrie. “You will watch over him?”

“I know that it is not what you wish to hear…but I am _your_ Valkyrie,” she admitted in amusement. “My place is at your side.”

“Wait, really?” Bruce wondered in surprise.

The Valkyrie lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “I promised Thor that I would look after his people, Bruce…I am bound to my service, for now.” She touched his cheek affectionately, tilting her head. “Should you need me, I will come.”

Bruce snorted softly at that. “Should _he_ need you, he’ll go _find_ you,” he said wryly.

Tony watched all this with great interest because _wow_ , _really?_ And here Secretary Ross was still holding a grudge thinking that Bruce was likely to go get all up on his daughter at any given moment. Given that Betty had gotten married _six years ago_ , he really ought to learn to move on before he had another heart attack. Tony looked around at the rest of the room, raising a brow.

“Anyone else feel like having an intense polyamorous moment before we go? Clear Eyes? You look like you could use it, frankly.” Heimdall gave him a withering stare that made Tony want to fuck right off back to his Quinjet as fast as his Italian leather could manage, unnerved by the wholly alien nature of his red eyes. “That’s a no, then. Vision? New York or London?”

The android inclined his head thoughtfully, but was interrupted by a man asking, “You’re going to New York?” from _directly behind_ Tony, making him jump slightly.

_“Sorry, boss,”_ FRIDAY apologized in his ear. _“I thought you’d seen him already.”_

“ _Obviously_ not,” Tony whispered at her, then eyed the weary magician propping himself up against the doorframe. Stephen Strange didn’t look much better off than he had when they’d first coaxed his...magic cape...to lay him out in the med bay. In fact, Tony thought he looked even paler than he had, his eyes hollow. “Looking to catch a ride, Doc?”

Strange nodded shortly, then grimaced as though even that small movement had caused him pain. “Normally I would…” he trailed off with a sigh and shook his head. “If you take me to London, I can get you to New York faster than any plane.”

Tony’s brow furrowed at the statement, but then he shrugged, since he didn’t care too much about the particulars just so long as he got out of there and soon. “Why not? _Strange_ -r things have happened.” He grinned as Strange sighed and gave him a highly unimpressed look, turning to look at the others as he twirled his finger in the air. “Wheels up in ten, boys. FRIDAY’s flying, so I call shotgun. Vision, you may want to give Magic Mike a piggyback ride.” He shot them all a smirk, then slid past Strange and out of the lab.

Tension and fear in the camp was high, nearly on the verge of panic as Tony made a beeline for his Quinjet and he sincerely hoped that Natasha got out there to do something queenly here soon. The refugees were clearly terrified, and given the long conversation he’d had with Vision about what they’d been through to get there, he could hardly blame them. Tony himself was having a hard enough time keeping his own shit together, and _he_ hadn’t portaled across the universe that morning.

His hands were shaking by the time he climbed into the Quinjet, collapsing into his chair in the cockpit to grip at the leather tightly. “Hydrogen,” he ground out, staring at the console before him as FRIDAY silently worked out their flight path. “Helium. Lithium. Beryllium. Boron. Carbon. Nitro-” Tony flinched and fell silent as a hand laid itself gently on his shoulder. “I was serious about Strange, Vis...I’m not sure he can walk.”

“I am confident that Doctor Banner can assist him, should he require it. As I am equally confident that you should not be alone just now.” Vision sat himself beside Tony, though given that there wasn’t a second chair, it meant that he floated like some kind of monk reaching nirvana. The thought made Tony’s lips twitch, but his mirth quickly faded as the android said, “The Asgardians are not a threat to Earth.”

“Of _course_ they are!” Tony burst out angrily. “You don’t just introduce a whole new _population_ and expect there not to be consequences! The Asgardians have been top of the galactic food chain for _millennia_ and now they’re _here_ , on our very fragile, very _mortal_ planet where all their enemies can finish the job.” Tony took off his glasses and threw them on the console, sinking his head into his hands. “I should have done more, Vis. We aren’t prepared, we’re not even in the same _galaxy_ as ‘prepared’. I know you’ve all said that Wanda’s hallucination was just a manifestation of my fears, yet it’s all coming _true_.”

Fighting for breath around the vise that had seized hold of his lungs, Tony squeezed his eyes and fought against the panic that sent uncontrollable shudders through him. Vision watched him silently for several long moments, resting a hand on the back of Tony’s neck to send faint electrical pulses out through the contact, wordlessly encouraging his body to calm once more. When at last Tony sat back, his lashes wet, but otherwise calm, the android finally spoke.

“There is more to what is happening now than I have told you,” he admitted softly. “The true cause of my hesitation, my…withholding of fact. I cannot say whether or not it is wise now for me to disclose it to you now, for it may do more harm than good, yet…perhaps you can find some comfort in the knowledge.”

“Wow, you really know how to sell it, don’t you?” Tony chuckled wryly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me guess…it’s the end of the world.”

“It may well be,” Vision replied. “When Loki first approached myself and Doctor Strange for aid in his plan-“

“Still a _mind-bogglingly bad_ decision on your part, by the way.”

“-he showed us the destruction of a distant world and the being responsible. It was that being who hunted the Asgardians, the reason Loki used the Tesseract to portal them to Earth,” he explained, his expression serious. “Loki seemed certain that this creature will follow them here, for _this_.” Vision touched the Mind Stone at his brow lightly, which gave a soft pulse in response.

“Let me try for a second to ignore the fact that we’re trusting _Loki_ , who _already_ tried to lead an alien invasion to Earth once before,” Tony said sarcastically. “What you’re telling me now is that he’s still back there, with this Infinity Stone hunting, world destroying being… _and_ _the_ _Tesseract_.”

“And Thor,” Strange finished tiredly as he came aboard, seemingly propped up between Bruce and his cape.

“Oh, well, _that_ tips things in our favor, except wait, no…apparently _Natasha_ is Thor now. Whatever that means.” Tony kept expecting to feel the fear and anxiety come crashing in around him, but it never came, his mind spinning into overdrive as he started to think about how they could survive what was coming. Huh. Maybe there _was_ comfort in knowledge. He laughed suddenly, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all as he pulled out his phone.

“Tony?” Bruce asked nervously, eyeing him. “That’s not a ‘let’s build murder-bots’ laugh, is it?”

“Man, don’t I _wish_ it were that kind of party,” Tony said, only half-joking. He thumbed through his contacts, staring long and hard at the contact for ‘Peter Parker’ before he scrolled past and hit ‘Rhodey’ instead. “It’s time to get the band back together.”

“Okay, you be Captain America and I’ll be Black Widow.”

“Hey, I wanted to be Black Widow!”

“You can’t be Black Widow, you’re a boy!”

“That’s not fair! _Dad!_ ”

“Neither one of you gets to be Black Widow,” Clint declared from his perch on the porch railing, watching his children prepare yet another game of Avengers. “Nathanial can be Black Widow.”

“But _dad_ , Nathanial’s just a _baby!_ ” his daughter complained, stamping her foot.

“You’re a baby!” Nathanial decried, fisting his chubby hands at his sides. Being just about three, he now considered the idea of being a baby utterly intolerable.

“This game is about five seconds away from turning into chores,” Clint warned and his children suddenly came to an accord, scampering further afield. Keeping a close eye on them, he sighed to himself, folding his arms. “No one ever wants to be Hawkeye.”

“That’s because _you’re_ playing Hawkeye,” Laura told him in amusement as she came up to the railing alongside him, looping an arm around his waist.

“Who does that make you?” he wondered, taking his eyes off the kids long enough to smile at her.

She considered this a moment, then leaned up to buss her lips against his cheek. “Nick,” she whispered into his ear and drank in the sound of his laughter with a wicked grin.

Laura relaxed into him as he hooked an arm around her shoulders, casting his ever watchful gaze out on their children once more. Neither one of them spoke, comfortable enough in the presence of the other that words were not required. Clint swore that he could feel the question as it built inside her head, so it didn’t surprise him in the slightest when she finally whispered, “Is it enough?”

Listening to the happy shouts of his children, occasionally interspersed with a quick wail of protest from their toddler or a heated round of bickering that ended as suddenly as it began, Clint smiled and pressed his lips to her brow. “It’s everything,” he murmured, breathing in the scent of her even as she melted against him.

His phone chimed softly from his pocket and he lifted his hip so that Laura could fish it out for him, chuckling when she gave him a grope for good measure. Lifting it up, she raised a brow as she read the screen. “It’s Tony,” she said in surprise, then read aloud, “’The beacons are lit.’” Her brow furrowed and she looked up at him quizzically. “What does that mean?”

Something cold slid into Clint’s stomach as he took his phone from her, his expression hardening somewhat. “Gondor calls for aid,” he muttered.

Laura’s frown deepened and she shook her head uncomprehendingly. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Besides that Tony’s a fuckin’ nerd?” he said, his thumb tapping over the keyboard to spell the words ‘fuck’ and ‘off’ in that order. Sending his reply, Clint tossed his phone out into the bushes, eliciting a startled gasp from his wife. “Not a damn thing.”

Eyes closed and body folded into the Padmasana position, Stephen Strange looked dignified and mysterious in his meditation as his cloak kept him hovering slightly in the center of the Quinjet. It was all for show, of course, because what Strange was _actually_ doing was manically pacing back and forth through the confines of the craft, trying to help his body along in healing the damage done to it. Vision’s eyes tracked him on the astral plane, but he took no notice of it, nor of Doctor Banner silently wringing his hands or Stark speaking into his phone and asking someone whether or not they’d been practicing their foxtrot.

One would think that after having been trapped outside his body at the other end of the galaxy for the last several weeks or years or _centuries_ that had somehow only been _hours_ , he wouldn’t be so quick to hop outside his skin again. But Strange simply couldn’t keep still and the flesh disagreed with the need to move just now. All that he’d seen, all that he’d _endured_ since Vision’s stone had touched his mind kept threatening to slip from memory as his psyche tried to protect itself and though Strange tried to hold the knowledge within him, he’d be lying if there wasn’t a deeper, primal part that wanted desperately to be rid of the memories.

Coming to a halt, his eyes met Vision’s and the android regarded him steadily, as though in wait. Strange had a thought of what he must look like in the living world, staring intently into open air as though he were an overlarge fuchsia cat and snorted softly. With a sigh, he lifted his hands and looked at the scars that webbed over them even here, smiling self-deprecatingly.

“You know, sometimes I really miss the days when my world only revolved around me,” he said wryly, flexing his fingers slowly. “When my biggest concern was healing my hands so that I didn’t have to face the ‘indignity’ of having to readjust my world view.” Vision inclined his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing and Strange continued, “I’m not sure anything we do will make any damn difference.”

“Perhaps not,” Vision said softly, ignoring the quizzical looks he received from Stark and Banner. “Yet we will try. For the sake of the world.”

“Not just the world,” Strange murmured and let his eyes drift upward to stare at the yellow jewel gleaming at Vision’s brow. “For _every_ world.”

For life itself.

###### 

The Avengers will return in World Stops Turning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks and PTSD.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter warnings: Brief references to past torture, mind control and mental instability.


End file.
